Always Summer
by Folle
Summary: Orihime is calling, calling, and Ichigo doesn't know how to not answer, except in the most important way.


Always Summer

_Orihime is calling, calling, and Ichigo doesn't know how to not answer, except in the most important way._

notes

i. this could also be summarized as the standstill that is Ichigo and Orihime

ii. Orihime is a lot harder to write than I anticipated

iii. references to manga chapters 349–350 slash episodes 271–272

* * *

><p><em>these four walls are white and i am in them<em>

.;

She and her robot friends are on the verge of defeating the unicorn menace—she's gotten used to her mechanical eye and arm, really getting the aim down with that gun that pops out of her shoulder—when the unicorn she's been grappling with sprouts wings, long, black, leathery wings, and an extra horn. Its eyes turn green, sad and drooping and dangerous. The sky bleeds back, and the sun is replaced by the moon. The rest of the colorful world fades away as well: no more greens and yellows and blues and reds; there's just pale sand as far as the eye can see.

One swipe of the unicorn-turned-Ulquiorra's clawed, black arm and her robot comrades are all down and fading to dust, blowing away in the still air.

"Are you afraid now, woman?" he asks. His eyes are wide, they always were, and they make him look innocent.

"N-no," she stumbles over the word.

"And now?"

He steps to side, revealing the lifeless body of Kurosaki Ichigo prone on the pale, pale sand. His eyes are frozen open. No breath stirs his chest; there's nothing there but a hole, perfectly round and symmetrical and _so wrong_ in his chest.

Orihime sucks in a breath and murmurs his name. She runs to his side but her hands are shaking and her fairies don't leave her hair pins. She kneels at his side and lifts a hand to her hair, saying his name again and again. Her heart beats louder and louder, a pounding that drowns out the sound of even her own voice.

Orihime sits up, gasping, to find herself in her own bed. The world around her is still colorless in the dark, but where the moonlight glances in from a window she can see hints of red in the hair trailing over her shoulders, her yellow sundress crumpled on the floor, the muted tones of her blue rug.

The pounding doesn't stop.

.;

_Kurosaki-kun!_

.;

"Good morning, everyone!" Orihime greets her fellow students.

She is later than normal—the dark purple circles under her eyes that morning had so fascinated and horrified her that she'd spent an obscene amount of time staring in her mirror—and almost everyone is already in the classroom. Mizuiro waves politely without looking up from his phone while Keigo begins to say something high pitched as he moves towards her. However, he is cut off by Tatsuki's fist before Orihime can understand a word of it.

"Morning, 'Hime," Tatsuki returns nonchalantly. Keigo groans from the floor.

"Good morning, Inoue-san," Ishida greets formally as he unpacks his books and lays them carefully on his desk.

"Yo." Ichigo waves two fingers.

Orihime smiles at the way his hair sticks out everywhere, orange and bright. Already she is forgetting about endless night, creatures with holes instead of hearts.

"Oi, Inoue," Ichigo starts.

Orihime panics. Has she been staring at him stupidly with a smile on her face? She feels her cheeks heat and opens her mouth to excuse herself, already concocting a story of little blue men who pull and pinch lips—

"Are you ok?"

He frowns slightly, his brow furrowing, amber brown eyes intense.

Orihime fights off a sigh—he's _so cute_ when he scowls—and brandishes a thumbs-up like a weapon, stepping back to widen her stance.

"No need to worry about me!" Orihime declares brightly. "I've got super smash armor under my skin!"

She pinches her arm, pulling the skin away.

"See?"

In front of her, Ichigo's mouth turns up ever so slightly at one corner.

"Yeah."

Still he studies her face, his eyes resting on the dark almost-bruises under her eyes.

She tries not to squirm under his scrutiny as she takes her seat.

.;

_roses are red violets are blue i'll always follow you_

.;

Orihime carefully arranges the breads and buns, not looking at the knot of freshman outside the shop on the sidewalk, and adjusts her apron.

She's used to it, really, even though she doesn't understand it.

In the beginning it was just some whispering in the halls at school as she walked by. Soon they were calling out to her, _Idol-san! Idol-san!_ Last week one had asked her if she'd pose for a picture on his camera phone. She'd shrugged and then given her best peace sign and biggest smile. At first they had just cooed and awed, but soon it had turned to whistles, their faces like panting, slobbery dogs. And a few days ago two had followed her home from school, asking her _please, please let us carry your books, Inoue-sempai_.

She would be lying if she didn't find all the attention baffling, but she reasons that maybe the dark fairies have taken over their minds and are playing tricks on her, because even though it's weird, there's no harm done, is there?

"Orihime-nee!" a cry, accompanied by a chime and a little whoosh of wind from the opening door, distracts her from the baked goods.

"Yuzu-chan!" she greets happily.

Ichigo's little sister smiles so prettily.

"I want to buy some sweet bread, and Onii-chan said this is the best shop," Yuzu explains.

"Coming right up!" Orihime cheers. She turns to show Yuzu to the sweet bread collection when there is another tinkle of the bell on the shop door, another rush of wind.

"Hey, Inoue," Ichigo greets casually.

Orihime stiffens.

"K-kurosaki-kun," she stammers, wide-eyed.

His arms are laden with shopping bags, no doubt Yuzu's other purchases. He's scowling mildly and puffs out a breath to shift errant orange strands from his eyes. As she stares, one corner of his mouth tilts upwards.

Her boss, a big, burly baker whose gruffness belies his fondness for all things sweet—including his part time employee—comes out from the back just then, a tray of fresh pastries in hand.

"Orihime-chan, I've got some more for you to put out!" he bellows. He sets the tray on the counter before he notices their customers.

"Welcome, welcome, to the finest bakery in all of Karakura!"

He bows and Ichigo raises a brow.

"Orihime!" he commands, "make sure to treat our customers well!"

"Yes sir!" Orihime salutes him good naturedly, leading Yuzu once again to the sweet breads, thankful for the distraction.

Ichigo wanders to the front window display.

"Oi, Inoue, you know those guys?"

Orihime looks up as Yuzu's nose wrinkles in indecision. Ichigo jerks his head in the direction of the freshman, who've crossed the street but are still lingering.

"Um," Orihime falters. She's not sure how to explain them.

"Tch!" the baker spits in the direction of the window. "Hooligans! Ruffians! Delinquents!" He disappears to the back of the shop once more, mumbling all the way.

"Inoue?"

"Um, well, I don't know their names, but they're from school! They're… very friendly! We took pictures and they walked me home and—"

"Pictures?" Ichigo interrupts, his scowl deepening. There's an edge to his tone.

Orihime drops her eyes to the floor.

"Oh… um…"

"I see."

Orihime peeks at Ichigo from under her lashes and is startled by the menace darkening Ichigo's eyes.

"Um… Ah… But they're just being nice, aren't they, Kurosaki-kun?" She can't help the confusion coloring her words. Sure, they're odd, but she doesn't understand why Ichigo is angry.

Ichigo glares out the window while Orihime puzzles in her head. The silence is broken only when Yuzu shouts.

"I've decided! Sweet potato for Daddy, melon for Karin-chan and me, and chocolate for Onii-chan!"

Ichigo breaks off his stare from the window and gives Yuzu a half smile. Orihime takes Yuzu's selections to wrap them up.

When they leave the shop, Ichigo looks briefly at Orihime as he steps to the door.

"Bye, Inoue," he calls out over his shoulder as he steps over the threshold.

"See you at school, Kurosaki-kun!"

Outside she notices the freshman scatter before she shelves the fresh pastries in their baskets.

.;

_every day the same i wait for you_

.;

The next day during the lunch period, Orihime is startled when the boy who asked her to pose for his camera phone abruptly approaches her and bows lowly.

"Inoue-san! Please accept my apologies for having the nerve to take your picture! I have deleted it from my phone, burned all copies, and made my friends do the same! I promise we will no longer follow you home, to your job, or bother you in any way! Please forgive us!"

He straightens and glances around nervously.

Orihime sees his black, black eye, and follows his gaze to the roof where Ichigo often eats lunch with his friends.

"Um, okay."

The freshman breathes a ragged sigh of relief and runs off as if the ground he was standing on burns his feet.

"What was _that_ about?" Tatsuki growls, arms folding over her chest.

"Oh… well… The dark fairies—"

And she can't help the way her eyes stray to the roof, wondering, wondering, wondering.

.;

_love is the sky do you see up there_

.;

"Seats!" Ochi-sensei announces as she enters the room.

Chairs scrape against the floor as students scramble for their desks.

"Alright, everyone please pass forward your literature assignments."

There is the sound of paper shuffling as the teacher waits in the front of the room. Orihime removes her homework from a pink folder with orange flowers, waiting to pass it along once she has all the assignments from students sitting behind her. She glances around while she waits, noting the beautiful blue sky outside.

She thinks of her brother, how he loved her like she was everything, and smiles.

In the front of the room Ochi-sensei clears her throat.

Orihime jumps a little, sheepish, and hurries to take the papers from the student behind her, adding hers to the stack and passing them all forward. She bows her head, hoping her cheeks aren't too pink, and vows to pay attention.

Ochi-sensei sets the assignments on desk, straightening them, and turns to the class.

"We're going to start off today with a discussion about Ophelia. Some paint her as a very one-dimensional character, meant only to be a parallel for the queen in Hamlet's perception."

Ochi-sensei leans back against her desk and folds her arms, scanning the room. Orihime sits up straighter.

"Ishida," Ochi-sensei picks, "what do you think of Ophelia?"

Ishida fingers his glasses, settling them higher on his nose.

"I find it unfortunate that she places her affections on one so unworthy."

Ochi-sensei grins.

"Explain."

Ishida's hands drop to his lap, and Orihime is surprised to see them ball into tight fists.

"Hamlet is emotionally abusive, unstable, and selfish. Ophelia wastes her purity on his ungrateful heart, and in the end she suffers for it astronomically."

"In essence, then, you think her love for Hamlet kills her," Ochi-sensei sums up.

Ishida nods.

"Interesting."

Orihime watches her teacher scan the room again. Her eyes stop and Orihime follows their direction. Ochi-sensei has settled on Ichigo. His head is turned and he seems to be staring out the window.

"Kurosaki," their teacher addresses him.

Slowly he turns his head to the front.

"She should have gone to the nunnery," he says lowly, steadily.

Orihime opens her eyes wide, wanting to hear everything he doesn't say, and watches his brow furrow slightly as he turns back towards the window.

"Then she wouldn't have died."

Ochi-sensei cocks an eyebrow.

"So he's trying to protect her, you think?"

Ichigo shrugs jerkily.

"Right before she gets there he's talking to himself about _murder_—he's got to know he's not right. He _should_ feel guilty about getting Ophelia involved to begin with. She shouldn't have to deal with any of that crap."

"Hmm," Ochi-sensei murmurs.

Orihime keeps her eyes on Ichigo's face, catching how his brows scrunch together as his scowl deepens.

"Inoue."

For the second time Orihime jumps a little in her seat, quickly facing her teacher and silently praying for her cheeks to not be pink.

"Um…" Orihime drops her gaze to her desk, focusing on her pink folder, its orange flowers. Slowly she lifts her head, looking directly at Ochi-sensei's patiently waiting face.

"I… I don't think she loved Hamlet enough."

In her peripheral vision she sees Ichigo go very still, but she keeps her eyes on her teacher.

"Please explain," Ochi-sensei requests.

Once again Orihime dips her gaze to her desk. She takes in a breath before raising it again.

"Hamlet has so much on his mind, so much responsibility. He acts so angry, but it's really because he hurts so much. I… Well, I think Ophelia was scared, and she didn't believe in him enough, so she didn't help him. Maybe—maybe if she'd loved him a little more she could have supported him, made his burden lighter."

Orihime can't stop her sigh.

"And… and in the end, she still loves him, but she can't help him because it's too late!"

"It is very tragic," Ochi-sensei agrees gently. "Tragic, indeed. A metaphorical representation about the total loss of Hamlet's innocence…"

Ochi-sensei's voice picks up speed and volume, and the lecture carries on.

.;

_always and enough just so long for you_

.;

Outside the sun is lower on the horizon, bathing everything in late afternoon gold and red.

Orihime is at her locker at the end of the school day, quietly putting her books away and pulling out shoes to change into. Tatsuki has already left for her dojo, and the other two or three students scattered throughout the hallway are singularly occupied with their own lockers, so Orihime is alone with her thoughts. She bends to gather her things and sees a pair of feet drawing close to her. Quickly she straightens, but she is clumsy and unbalances. She flails her arms like windmills but to no avail.

A hand grips her arm and pulls her up.

"Oh! Thank you!" Orihime smiles her biggest smile and looks up.

"K-kurosaki-kun!"

His eyes are intense, his scowl pinching the corners of his mouth, and the sun streaming from the windows paints his hair a burnished gold. She feels her smile droop a little in surprise, her mouth naturally dropping into an _O_.

"Are you okay, Inoue?"

His hand is slowing letting go of her arm, and she suddenly thinks he's going to finger the tendrils of hair falling from her shoulders.

She blinks and his arm falls to his side. Orihime finds it hard to speak, so she murmurs an affirmative and nods her head once.

Ichigo's scowl softens ever so slightly. He stuffs his hands in his pocket and averts his gaze.

"Inoue—" he stops. "I'm glad you're okay." He stops again, rakes his hand through his hair.

Orihime tilts her head and thinks he's having a hard time finding what he wants to say. She understands; she knows he's more a man of action, so she smiles brightly.

"Me, too."

Ichigo glances at her, eyes momentarily wide, before he scowls again. However, one corner of his mouth turns upward slightly and his face relaxes into something between a smirk and an actual smile.

"Yeah," he mumbles.

.;

_Get up._

_Get up._

_Get up._

_Get up._

_I… I will—!_


End file.
